


dance of the knights

by shnscht



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: (it's like two paragraphs but anyway), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ass Play, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, M/M, Mirror Sex, Rimming, Spit As Lube, anyway, some strange ballet au i came up with, which sounded consistent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnscht/pseuds/shnscht
Summary: —Have you ever been fucked in front of a mirror?—Yes, but not in a room full of them...—Then I'm glad to be the first one to do so





	dance of the knights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feistycadavers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistycadavers/gifts).



> Title from a song from the Romeo and Juliet ballet from Sergei Prokofiev. 
> 
> There's many references to it, so I added links to certain words, I'd recommend to open then on another tab! clicking on the just opens them on the same page.
> 
> Also this is a gift for user feistycadavers!

Tim Sköld was a big name when it was about someone randomly mentioning _ballet_ in the hallways of any academy on the area, everyone who wanted to be or aspired to be a dancer, had to know at least his name and his biggest performances on the medium.

And things didn’t stop there, he was in art books, magazines; big companies begged him to work with them, some of them even told him they'd pay for his university studies and major, but there was not a lot he could do after that big injury that almost ended his career and which he still had nightmares with.

He had good memories a of big theaters, the music filling big spaces and in the middle of that whole scene, him dancing in the spotlight and always with that delicacy and fragility that distinguished him from the rest of the rest of his peers, but suddenly the grief of this exact once happy memory kicked in. Trying to do  _[on pointe](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pointe_technique) _was too painful to keep the performance going, he begged the company to let him continue but on another try backstage, his ankle and knee cracked. No one knew the reason, _but he did_ and kept it secret forever.

He was older now, and the face who once was bound to be a star, ended up being a ballet teacher on a university. The salary was shit mainly because he only had barely 5 students per semester and things never worked the way he wanted them to. Maybe if that didn't happen before the performance 20 years ago, things would've been very different. It was very heartbreaking to remember, but on the other hand, that was they way he worked... _from pain._

 

It was the beginning of a new semester, the day was rainy and huge puddles of water were around the streets near the apartment complex he lived in with his two cats and a pack of cigarettes. The low sunlight on the sky hit his windows and exactly a tiny ray of sunshine hit his forehead.

He rubbed his eyes and with a gesture of his hand on his phone [ _Má Vlast_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scMRU3a_sIQ) by Smetana started playing on the room, that was one of those few Orchestra performances he still listened to on his free time and also one of his favorites; he remembered he used to practice with [Vltava](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6kqu2mk-Kw) more than with any other song way before going to a proper academy; on a glimpse of nostalgia, he tried to mimic his own moves on one of the many mirrors he had all over the place, still delicate...but all over the years he stopped practicing made a few movements rigid, still he moved to the sound of music and could even do a _[fouetté en tournant](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/2d/CF46618267_109996904033.gif). _

But before he could keep going, his alarm sounded on the speakers and he laughed — You're late again... — with a gasp and a leg cramp, he went to get his stuff ready for the day, have a shower and if he still had a bit of time, maybe a smoke on his balcony before leaving. 

Before going into the shower, he turned to the mirror and saw his naked and pale body...there were still scars on his ankle and thigh, maybe not as visible as a long time ago but still pretty tangible and painful to him, tears almost slid down his face but he had no time for it. He went in the shower and played his nostalgia playlist, featuring his favorite composer Rachmaninoff and a few Prokofiev here and there, he avoided looking down to his legs.  ** _Why is it such a big deal today?_** ; it was weird to him suddenly feeling like that about that thing specially, most of the time he didn't care but once again he was on the verge of tears, and when _[Lullaby's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pai_P855iPA)_ first few notes flooded the shower, his tears also did. 

**_Fuck._ **

He wasn't much of a very emotional person, most of the time he even looked emotionless. But things like this really got in that part of his heart that still worked normally after so many disappointment and many trapped feelings he could never get out; luckily it didn't last long, having flashbacks of the situation that day, remembering how many companies rejected him, when everyone turned their back to him whenever he tried to pick the remaining pieces of his career as a ballet dancer. He got dressed and grabbed his suitcase, before leaving the room he petted both of his cats. 

—I'll be back soon. —the sound of the door closing went through the whole hallway, but the sound of his boots dulled the echo.

 {}

 

During the long walk throughout the city, he noticed that a big storm was incoming. Lucky for him he always had an umbrella on his suitcase, but not everyone in the street had the same luck as him. He played the Prokofiev's No. 1 Violin Concerto and as the music progressed from moderatto to andante, the rain started filling the streets and even with the chaotic energy of the loud city around him, he was calm. 

He sometimes stopped to think about what could he be doing instead of teaching on a school. Maybe he'd be dancing on a fancy theater in Germany or having a principal role on a series of performances in Paris while on his free time, he could visit museums; but daydreaming about what could've been was not something he did often, maybe it was better listening to Prokofiev in the rain a better way to pass time. He chuckled to himself as one of his many memories went through, him trying to improve his  _[grand jeté](https://media.giphy.com/media/Gz8mjXC6qN0aY/giphy.gif) _technique as this specific performance movement sounded on a studio. 

A hit on the back of his knee made him realize where he was, just in front of the door the principal entrance of the campus. Everything went black for a second and he then realized his clothes were soaking and with his left profile facing the floor. A desperate voice was repeating the word "sorry" very fast, and he could stand on his feet after a few dizzy tries and his eyes trying to find the umbrella, but decided to leave it there, his clothes were wet already so the rest of the rain wouldn't even make a difference.

Tim was not mad at this, it was not the first and most likely not the last time it would happen, although whoever that kid was he should've paid attention he was just in front of the door. He decided to say nothing and quickly went to the bathroom to change into the extra suit he had on his suitcase, plus he didn't want to catch a cold at this time of the year.

He looked at his leg again and thought about earlier, but then again, maybe it wasn't that bad after he could complete a _[brisé](https://i.makeagif.com/media/1-02-2016/2GkgUk.gif)_  weeks earlier. He had to leave the topic aside because he was about to head to his classroom and studio.

On his way there, he heard the typical gossiping on the hallways and even in the offices, it was a normal thing but that was what he thought until he heard his own name going around the place. He ignored it, why bothering? Whatever they were talking about was not concerning or important.

He sat on his desk to read the list of students he had to deal with this semester and for his surprise it was over a dozen. **_Maybe this is what everyone is talking about…_ **

For his surprise, at least 5 of them were men, but on the other hand it was probably because both of the other activities were already full and they had no option to pick from. Whatever it was, he maybe could perform something with them at the end of the semester.

Before he could keep brainstorming, the students went in the studio, first on a large group and then one by one, the clock hit 9am and there was a person missing that went by the name John Lowery. He was about to start speaking and the young man went in the room running out of breath. **_Oh no._ **

—S-sorry!!!— he sat on the floor and proceeded to get a notebook out and to avoid eye contact with anyone, but the mirror covered walls didn't help.

—Mr. Lowery, I hope this is the first and last time a thing like this happens.— he didn't pay attention to him before, but this time he could actually see him with detail. He was wearing a basic black tank top, and both his chest and arms were covered in colorful tattoos in contrast of his very pale skin, somewhat long blonde hair, and a very thin body complexion. But overall, he was  _very pretty_. — I'm Mr. Sköld, I'll be your teacher for this semester and also if you plan to remain in the class for the rest of your degree.

Everyone in the room started talking between them when they heard his last name, except for John who was too focused on admiring the studio. A lot of praise was coming out of most students mouths, mentioning how impeccable his performances as Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet and Prince Florimund on The Sleeping Beauty and even in smaller roles throughout the years.

The class went from there to classical music and general ballet knowledge. The end of the class was announced by the bell and Tim realized there was a remaining student sitting on the floor facing the back part of the studio.

—Why do dance studios have mirrors on the walls?—John said.

—Posture checking. You can look at your own movements and angles to correct them so they look...perfect. You see yourself as how the public sees you.—that reply from Tim triggered another memory. His first solo performance on a big stage when he was 16. He asked the same question and received that same answer that turned his clumsy moves into delicate and smooth. 

—I always thought it was because teacher had to check the whole room for some reason.— John replied.

—They can be used with that purpose as well.— Tim smiled.— I'm not trying to get you out of here but you don't want to be late for your next class. 

John was looking at his teacher while he was distracted with a pair of eyes that were probably not allowed. He spent too much time looking at the classroom itself that didn't bother to look at the person who was giving the class. He knew he was older than he was, but he didn't appear to be even over 30 and it was mostly because there were no imperfections on his skin plus the absence of facial hair. Not to mention his body was well.

Tim noticed John was looking at him. And made eye contact repeating what he said beforehand.

—Don't you have another class?— he sounded a bit rude but in any case, he was right. 

—I...do. So I guess, I'll see you in a wee- I - I mean, until next class.

—Bring a pair of tights and a shirt, it's practice and not theory this time.

Tim chuckled as John bumped against the door and left the room nodding in response of what he said. He took off the suit to reveal a pair of black tights and a tight dark shirt, plugged the aux cord to the speakers beside an old piano in the corner and began warming up on one of the bars of the mirrors from the walls, starting with a series of the famous  _[développé](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/DevotedDisgustingArabianwildcat-small.gif) _exercise as [Arabesque No. 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVYH-7QGE-A) by Debussy was playing. 

He looked at himself in the mirror in front of him, remembering how he used to look like several years ago; he had the luck of keeping up with other exercises so his body was the same the thought of himself looking younger disappeared when the music changed to Prokofiev's _[Dance of the Knights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78CDTV8FO1c)_ and it went past the stiff angle he was standing in. The violin melody went through his bones and muscles. Movement looked weird at first but eventually it ceased to the delicacy he always had and from a _[soutenu en tournant](https://previews.customer.envatousercontent.com/files/5f2829d3-18fa-4548-b55c-ca279efc3558/video_preview_h264.mp4), _his feet were in the air and the rest of his body was on sync with the music, like if he lost himself to it. 

He didn't even bother to follow any of the variations from that song itself, he was doing his own thing. The whole studio faded and suddenly he was performing on a stage everything from _[tours en l'air](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8e/Antonio_tours.gif) _to _[piqué turns](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ed/d5/98/edd598af79d42c33ae29b4883ff4193d.gif). _

 

The comforting meow of his cats got into his ears when he stood by the door of his apartment. He was surprisingly not tired after all the improvised dancing from earlier. Now laid on his bed reading the Othello copy one of his students from last semester gave to him as a gift for his excellent teaching methods and the great opportunity that same student had to travel and study in a dance academy on Budapest thanks to him, maybe it was not that bad to be a teacher.

{}

Weeks and months went like nothing until it was the time for the class to prepare a performance for the end of the semester, it was decided it would be a shorter version of Romeo and Juliet because even having up to ten students, a production like that one couldn't be made that easily. Everyone including himself had a role on the play and although most of them were okay with it, John wasn't so sure; the play was in two months and even with the knowledge he had at this point, he wasn't confident enough to embrace it.

Tim noticed John's improvement after a few classes, it was hard to believe but he was proud that once again,his teaching skills worked perfectly and that was not the only thing working...ever since John gained confidence, he would be a tease for him, he didn't know if it was on purpose but he fell for it every time. The warming up exercises _weren't the only thing warming up_ and as much as John's flexibility increased, some angles left nothing to Tim's vivid imagination, still, he was terrified of giving the first step. 

{}

Tim now spent more time dancing and practicing his variations in front of any of the mirrors on his home and at any time. But that was not the only thing he was constantly doing. Due to how  _exhausting_  his classes were lately, the need for  _relief_ was now more important and as much as music itself helped with that, self pleasure also did. He didn't watch a lot of porn or anything along those lines but he liked to imagine and even read a few erotica throughout the years. He was fresh out of the shower and trying to find some stuff to jerk off to on his phone and with the room's door closed because sometimes the cats interrupted his time alone; with nothing on his browser and a non-existent boner, he thought of leaving the topic aside, until he remembered the stuff John did in the studio.

How he could bend over so easily and grab his ankles and even make eye contact with him while doing so or even when he did a split with his ass facing him without even being subtle about it, maybe it was what he was thinking all along; he would often imagine John fully nude doing those same things in the studio and all the mirrors reflecting his pale body so he didn't miss a detail, from those meaty lips he would love to fuck to what he imagined his asshole would look like.

His eyes looked down and he noticed how wet and enlarged his dick was already, even a few veins showed up and it had been so long since he was that turned on like that. He might or might not had spent the rest of the week jerking off to the thought of John on his knees drooling for his dick or him pounding his ass bending over that old piano.

{}

_On this class, everyone was doing their part individually in the middle of the studio as the rest was around the place, John played Mercutio, a secondary but important character, which had a short solo on a portion of the performance, Tim watched every little detail from John's performance as the rest of the class clapped on a standing ovation. **Maybe it's actually time to ask John if this is on purpose.**  There was nobody left on the room but John and Tim, and as the younger one walked towards the door, the mind of the older one was going back and forth on saying anything or keeping his mouth shut and he almost didn't noticed John's lascivious look over him. _

_—John...—this time, Tim was the one avoiding eye contact._

_—Mr. Sköld...—he replied and walked towards Tim and took a seat near the piano, just a few steps away from him._

_Tim swallowed, no words came out of his mouth and while he still had a small amount of control, maybe John knew exactly how to destroy it. He stood up and went right to the center of the studio, to warm up._

_—What...are you-John interrupted hushing him from afar._

_—I've noticed the way you look at me on our practices, I thought I could give a private show for you...—he smirked._

_He was not that shocked and that responded to whatever he was about to ask, still, he wanted to make sure it was not his mind playing games on him and this was not a fantasy or a dream **and it sadly was.**_

John was trying to get him back into reality poking his arm and waving his hand in front of his eyes.

—Mr. Sköld, are you okay? —Tim was back on the studio.

—S-sorry John, I'm not feeling well these days—he replied stuttering. 

—I was reading about you the other day...— he said in a sad tone— you really were onto something, quite sad that injury fucked that up. Tim was still unsure of even mentioning anything, maybe all this was just his brain playing tricks. John didn't seem like he imagined it, but then again,  _he imagined it._

—John, can I ask you something?— he immediately regretted what he said but it was too late.

—Shoot.— he replied. 

—I am very proud of you improvement since the first class, but there's something  _getting on my nerves_.

—Oh, I apologize if it's because I'm still not sure about my character....—he looked down.

—You play it perfectly, and it's not about that...—his heart rate went a little crazy and John was slightly worried of what he could say.

—...then what is it?— John's hands were tense. 

—I really admire your  _stretching_ skills...—  ** _Fuck. He probably talked too soon._** And John immediately knew what was he referring to. 

— _So it's about **that**?—_ he said grabbing his own shoulder. —Well....

—I just want to know what are you trying to accomplish with that.— Tim felt a bit relieved, but maybe it was not whatever his imagination was doing.

—Maybe I wanted to get your attention.—John gasped. —and I can see I did...—his voice tone changed into something more seductive and his cheeks turned red. 

Tim smiled. 

—I would lie to you if I said that didn't caught my attention.— flashbacks of his long late night jerking off sessions thinking about him invaded his mind as  _something else_ outside his brain was  _physically responding._

John noticed how Tim's dick was visible through the grey tights he was wearing, his mouth drooled a bit. 

—Not only yours  _I see_...— Tim's boner was very noticeable now and John's impulses were hard to leave aside, not even a second after, his wet tongue was sliding over the sheer fabric of Tim's tights, very close to where the head of his cock was. 

—I don't know if we should do this here...—Tim's fingers held John by the hair, pushing his head back and away from his crotch. 

—I don't mind....— his head was off for a few seconds,  _maybe_ he wanted to keep his job, but the idea of fucking John in a room full of mirrors sounded appealing.

—Have you ever been fucked in front of a mirror?

—Yes, but not in a room full of them....

—Then I'm glad to be the first to do so.

John blushed again. Tim's grip was harder than before and John's angelic face was being rubbed all over his cock. It looked  _big_. He had big stuff in the past but he was a bit afraid of not being able to take it, still, he liked being manhandled and pain was something he enjoyed a lot, even more when his hot ass teacher was inflicting it.

He grabbed the waist of the tights and pulled them down to that spot just over his crotch, Tim laid his back in one of the mirrors and pushed the tights until they reached his ankles, still very self conscious about his scars. John's eyes widened when he looked back up. It was almost the size of his forearm and thicker than his wrist, veiny and already leaking. His lips kissed his lower abdomen, and his tongue caressed the base of his cock, as an almost silent moan from his mouth got into his ears and was the last bit of self control he had. 

John licked the tip, meeting Tim's eyes and grabbing himself with his left hand. 

—I didn't expect you to be this big...—he purred, fitting one or two more inches on his mouth. Tim's breath was different now.

—Do you think it's gonna fit?— Tim said, maybe it wouldn't, but he'd make it fit.

John didn't reply. Instead, he could already fit over the half and Tim felt the tight and wet grip of his throat around his cock, he watched John without blinking, he didn't wanted to miss any detail of his facial expressions. Just when he thought he couldn't take any inch anymore, it was all the way inside his throat and his eyes were watering. Tim groaned.

His hands clenched, but especially the one in John's hair.

It didn't take him too long to start fucking his mouth, now with John kneeling with his back against the mirror and Tim thrusting and pushing John's head into the wall, his drool made a puddle on the floor and his precum made the sheer fabric on his white tights, completely transparent. Tim kept fucking his throat, to the point he almost came. John tried to deep-throat again, but Tim stopped him.

—Turn around.—Tim said. He didn't notice before, but John was wearing a jockstrap. The tights didn't cover anything.

He grabbed John's hair again, and his initial reaction was bending over. Tim ripped the tights and John's hands spread his ass open. He expected a pair of fingers, but something warm and wet touched that spot first, Tim's lips left wet kisses around John's tight spot, and from that, his tongue was already fucking his ass as John moaned and could barely control his urge to cum already.

John's voice broke in a loud moan, as Tim's fingers wet with his spit slid inside him if it wasn't for his hand shutting his mouth, he would be jobless by now. It looked tight, and was very tight, Tim was slightly afraid of hurting John, but it would be fun to see how much he could take.

Four fingers were already in and John was begging Tim to fuck him. The head of his cock was resting on the entrance of John's asshole, the size difference between the two was a bit overwhelming, but Tim stopped caring once the head went in. It was tighter than it looked. 

—Christ...— John moaned, once again spreading his ass so Tim could slide with ease. The first half went in. John forced Tim's cock deeper, he wanted to show he could take it all and eventually he did. 

—Fuck.—Tim said almost silently. He proceeded to properly fuck him, going slowly. He was about to grab John's dick to jerk him off as he fucked him, but John stopped his hand and instead led it to his throat. 

—I can cum with your dick only.—Tim's ear were pleased with that, the hand on his throat grabbed him firmly, as his cock slid a little faster now.

The position itself was quite uncomfortable for him, he grabbed John by the neck and bent him over the piano in the corner of the room.

He put his dick back in and started pounding him without warning, John's smile filled the room and it went from that to his mouth open and moaning as Tim fucked him, the grip of his ass made him feel every single vein and inch from his teacher's dick. His face was against the mirror and Tim pulled his hair and throat back so he could see himself getting fucked. 

—Do you like the way you look taking my dick?—Tim said and John couldn't even speak with all the pleasure he was receiving, so he just nodded. Tim felt his orgasm grow and John's dick was leaking all over the top of the piano. 

Tim sat on the bench and John sat on his lap facing the back of the room. John began to ride Tim effortlessly, looking at his own facial expressions in the mirror and moaning as Tim licked his ear. He was very close, but he wanted to make it last longer. Tim grabbed his throat again and he knew he'd cum soon. 

Before he could even warn Tim about how close he was, his dick was on the verge. He came and all his cum was all over the floor. Tim grabbed his hips and kept fucking him.

—Kneel, I'm gonna cum.—John slid to the floor, just in front the puddle of cum he made a few moments before. Tim stood in front of him and John grabbed it to give him a short handjob. Tim came with a silent moan. All directed to John's mouth.

Tim looked around and noticed John was licking his own cum from the ground, once he was done, he grabbed his jaw and helped him stand up. 

—I thought this was just a fantasy of mine, never thought it would be real a week after.—Tim said. 

John just smiled and got his clean clothes out of his bag. He threw the rest of the ripped tights and Tim looked at him.

—You already saw me naked, I might as well just change here.—he laughed and Tim put his boxers back shaking his head.

He was about to leave without saying anything else, he went back and kissed Tim. 

—See you next week, Mr. Sköld.

—See you next week, John.


End file.
